I was born
of contrast.
in the warmest month
of the coldest place.
winter in my marrow
sun on my skin.
I was planted
in red clay.
forged in the heat
of midwest summers
the buzz of cicada
the glow of firefly.
blue light bottled
and studied.
I was tended
in a greenhouse
of stained glass
with no roof
escaping the elements
beneath the bindings
of books
I was watered
by words
and
mulched
with pages
tutored
by Lewis
Tolkien
Dahl
Silverstein
Bloom
Cleary
Alexander
Alcott
Burnett
Sewell
Carroll
Wilde
Austen
Bronte
Saint-Exupery
so many voices.
I was pruned
by siblings
snapping branches
ruthlessly loving
brutal storms
making us dig deep
entwining limbs
mingled roots
in common soil.
I am
cold fire
exposed shelter
silent voices
a rival comrade
chasing the sun
longing for summer
to bloom within.

 

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